“One of the tests of a good writer,” said the poet Karl Shapiro, “is editorial acumen, the ability to turn down your work. It’s the amateur who falls in love with his own written words and holds them sacrosanct.”
I think that that’s essentially true.
I think also that anyone can learn to write formulaic fiction and pristine prose, the straightjacketed poem, but the question one must always go back to is this:
Will those polished stories and perfect poems be read fifty or one hundred years later? Will they matter?
Or will time sink them?
What makes some literature timeless?
Why is there a lot of sloppy literature that legitimately lasts?
And what, after all, is poetry?
“Here all theory goes lame,” said Karl Shapiro.
But with him on this point I must respectfully demur.